Brazil's New Middle Class

May 02, 2016

Brazilians don't want history to repeat itself, but no one's coming to the rescue to turn things around.

The circus/impeachment vote in Brazil's lower house on April 17. Photo: PRB Nacional/Creative Commons

Two dead bodies lay on the beach in Rio de Janeiro, as beachgoers play soccer and walk by, unfazed. It’s hard to shock a Carioca. The two men had died when a nearly four-month-old bike path — built by a company under scrutiny for shoddy engineering and possible corruption — collapsed after getting hit by a strong wave, sending the two Cariocas into the sea and to their deaths.

This, in a state that's now so broke that it's stopped paying pensioners and has delayed salaries for half a million public-sector workers, leading dozens of categories of professionals to go on strike, from police to doctors. That also includes teachers, meaning around 50,000 students in the state are out of class — while at the same time, a movement is spreading with students occupying 65 schools to protest the abominable state of public education.

This, in a state where in the favelas, even in the so-called "pacified" ones, gun violence rages on, and sometimes spills over into the city's wealthy neighborhoods. Muggings are still a part of life. The picturesque Baía de Guanabara is still filled with sewage and garbage, as disgusting as ever after authorities failed on their promises, for the umpteenth time, to clean it up.

This, in the Olympic City less than 100 days away from the games. Is this the Rio of the 1990s, or 2016?

Rio's broken promises and local crises are a microcosm of what’s happening throughout the country, as an economic and political crisis makes Brazil’s current situation seem in some ways like a blast from the past. Another impeachment, another bust after the boom.

And that’s what’s helping drive the partisan divide, an underlying current in the impeachment debate. Many Brazilians are terrified to go back to the way things were. (That excludes some in the elite and a minority who support military rule who wouldn't mind going back to how things used to be.)

In the political realm, both members of the government and opposition are now using the word “coup” to describe scenarios that would hurt them: impeachment and new elections, respectively.

The word “golpe” is a loaded term in Brazil and evokes the military dictatorship that ruled the country from 1964–1985. It brings to mind torture, disappearances, and censorship. It also evokes media manipulation that helped support the dictatorship, and with today’s media bias, some argue not much has changed in that particular area.

Impeachment isn’t a new concept in Brazil’s relatively young democracy — there was a presidential impeachment in the 1990s — but by framing the debate in this manner, it fires people up, especially on the left.

On the other hand, many Brazilians don’t want to go back to a time when corruption flourished with impunity, when there was no accountability, when politicians could literally get away with murder. Arguably, corruption is still a major problem, but between the mensalão trial, the Car Wash investigation, and new transparency and corruption-fighting measures, there’s hope things are improving, if slowly.

Another fear is that of poverty and economic decline. Candidates and political flacks fed the fear of regression during the last election, which have persisted during the impeachment process. The government stoked fears that the opposition would eliminate social programs and hurt the poor. (Ironically, the economic crisis forced that same government to cut or reduce some of those programs.) Bolsa Familia, the most important program, is still intact, but the government claims the opposition will do away with it if Dilma is impeached.

Meanwhile, riding the wave of anti-corruption excitement, some in the opposition marketed themselves as the “patriotic choice” during the last election. So did those lawmakers who support impeachment — they framed a yes vote as the patriotic thing to do, alleging a route for change, for moving ahead.

So with the slow-motion implosion of the country’s institutions and economy, there’s a fear that Brazil is cursed to repeat its past. And that’s not an unreasonable fear.

While poverty decreased in the last decade, bringing millions into the new middle class, the crisis is sending millions back into poverty. There’s already talk of another so-called “lost decade,” with the recession predicted to continue.

Zika is getting all the headlines, but Brazil is also battling a dengue epidemic and a swine flu outbreak; both disease are more likely to kill those infected. Several states are broke, not just Rio, and more could follow. The pre-salt oil bonanza hasn't quite come to fruition, especially given low oil prices and the scandal rocking Petrobras.

While the country’s distracted by the impeachment process, Congress is pushing controversial legislation, from trying to roll back the country’s landmark net neutrality law to literally attempting to abolish environmental compliance for public works.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This time, it was supposed to be different.

There’s a tired trope that Brazil is the country of the future. But in the early 2000s, after Lula was elected to office and the country stood poised to ride the commodities boom, there was a sense that change was here to stay: economic growth, institutional stability, millions leaving poverty, and Brazil as a global player. It seemed like maybe, just maybe, this time Brazil would finally break the cycle. Now, maybe Brazil would be a so-called “serious country.”**

On the surface, like a fresh coat of paint, it looked like positive change was there to stay. But underneath, in the foundation, some things stayed the same. Especially politics.

As Brazil’s late rock star Cazuza once sang: “Eu vejo o futuro repetir o passado/Eu vejo um museu de grandes novidades/O tempo não para.” [“I see the future repeating the past. I see a museum of great novelties. Time doesn’t stop.”]*

So who can stop history from repeating itself?

That's the problem with the political crisis, and Brazilian politics in general. There is no truly new leadership waiting in the wings, and like zombies, even the most reviled politicians often come back.

Surveys show that a majority of Brazilians support impeachment, but a majority also support getting rid of Vice President Michel Temer, who will take over if the president is removed from office. Eduardo Cunha, the man third in line of succession, is under investigation on multiple corruption charges, and is widely hated by the Brazilian public, yet is still holding on as president of the lower house of Congress. The fourth in line, Renan Calheiros, has come under fire for corruption multiple times, yet is still somehow president of the Senate.

Given these realities, a survey found that more than 60 percent of Brazilians support new elections as a solution to the crisis.

The desire for new elections is also understandable after the embarrassing display in Congress broadcast live last month, when representatives from the Chamber of Deputies cast their votes for impeachment with singing, spitting, confetti cannons, and a long list of reasons that had nothing to do with the charges against the president. Plus, around 60 percent of members of Congress face charges of their own, ranging from corruption to even homicide.

But with no new political class, who could not only rescue the country from the abyss, but also really bring about change? And this doesn’t just include the presidency, but Congress, too. And without political reform, how can the system really change?

The answer is that new elections would likely bring many of the usual suspects. After all, some of the country’s most corrupt or disgraced politicians still grace the houses of Congress — including the president impeached in the 1990s and a politician wanted by Interpol, among others.

In the latest polls for a potential 2018 presidential race, the top names in contention are Lula (who already served two terms and whose reputation took a hit during the current crisis), Marina Silva (who lost in the last presidential election), Congressman Jair Bolsonaro (a far right-wing politician with a neo-Nazi flair), Aécio Neves (who narrowly lost the last presidential election and stands accused of several corruption charges), and Geraldo Alckmin (governor of São Paulo whose approval rating is around 30 percent).

So this month we’re likely to see Temer, a typical, old-school politician — sometimes described as the butler from a horror movie — take over during the trial phase of impeachment. That means one of the country’s most reviled politicians will become VP, unless the Supreme Court intervenes. Meanwhile, Congress continues to chip away at progress, one bill at a time.

They say you get the government you deserve. But as Brazilians say, ninguém merece. Nobody deserves this.

**O Brasil não é um país sério, or Brazil isn’t a serious country, is a phrase Brazilians throw around when they get down on their country. It's often wrongly attributed to French President Charles de Gaulle, but it originally came from a Brazilian: Carlos Alves de Souza Filho, Brazil’s ambassador to France from 1956 to 1964. The diplomat uttered the phrase during an informal, off-the-record discussion with de Gaulle in Paris, and a Brazilian journalist in the room wrote down the now infamous saying. It’s also symbolic of the so-called “mutt complex” in which Brazilians are super critical of their homeland, but are also sensitive to foreigners who voice those same critiques.

March 24, 2016

As Brazil's political crisis continues, it's not always easy to find level-headed, middle-of-the-road analysis. So it's useful to find a smart breakdown of the ideological divide with some cold, hard data. It's difficult to get a complete picture on the country's divisions amid a fast-moving and complex situation; this article offers some insight and food for thought.

"They want to get rid of Dilma to stop the Car Wash investigation." "It wasn't for 20 cents. It's not for the government. It's for democracy."

Writing for Piauí, Malu Gaspar explains what surveys show about the country's political polarization. The following excerpts are translated from the original Portuguese.

"Datafolha surveys conducted during the pro- and anti-government protests show that there were in fact differences between the two groups. Among the pro-impeachment demonstrators, 37 percent earned more than ten times the minimum wage; among Dilma's supporters, 24 percent had this same salary. During the anti-government protests, 12 percent were businesspeople. In the pro-Dilma protests, 15 percent were civil servants. However, in both protests, close to 80 percent of the demonstrators had a college education, around 30 percent had formal-sector jobs, and more than half earned more than 5 times the minimum wage. Which led to the conclusion that on both sides, those who were in the streets were a significant part of the elite," she wrote.

Another survey by Data Popular asked Brazilians from the so-called C class (new middle class) and the D and E classes (the country's poorest) why they didn't go to the protests - neither for nor against the government.

"Data Popular found that the poorest didn't go to the demonstrations because, first, they consider them 'a rich people thing.' Next, it's because they are total nonbelievers in political parties and the political system, and they don't think that Dilma Rousseff's fall would bring radical changes to the social and economic landscape," she adds.

But as it turns out, impeachment isn't something that divides the political classes as much as one might think.

"'The same proportion of people support impeachment in all social classes. But the reasons each group wants impeachment are diametrically opposed,' says Renato Meirelles, president of Data Popular. 'Brazilians are much less divided about impeachment than they are about the future of the country.' According to Meirelles, the C class is much more upset about the shrinking of government benefits - like Bolsa Família, Minha Casa Minha Vida, Prouni, and Pronatec - than about corruption.

'For them, Dilma has to go because she hasn't delivered on her campaign promises and she hasn't managed to expand these benefits.' This group, therefore, defends an efficient but provider state - which Meirelles calls a 'vigorous state' - while the completely opposite thing happens with those from wealthier social strata. 'In general, the richest 20 percent want a downsized state.' And it's this point where the ideological divide really matters, and it's this issue that the country will have to deal with after the impeachment impasse is resolved. Since the Brazilian government is broke and cuts are inevitable, the unavoidable collision will be traumatic."

Data Popular also found that Brazilians had very few ideas about potential leaders who could take on the crisis.

"In January, Data Popular asked 3,500 people of all social classes if they could name one person capable of getting the country out of the crisis - 89 percent said they couldn't think of a name. Of the 11 percent who did identify someone, the majority cited Pope Francis."

September 02, 2015

Between the political crisis and an economic downturn, Brazil is going through a rough patch. It's easy to forget that the gears of change are slowly and quietly continuing to grind away. The film "The Second Mother," or "Que Horas Ela Volta?" (What Time Does She Get Home?) helps remind audiences of this important reality that Brazil is changing for the better, and may not always be held hostage to its history.

The film - this year's Academy Awards submission from Brazil - follows Val, a live-in maid from the Northeast working for a wealthy family in São Paulo. It's "Neighboring Sounds" meets "The Help," though I suspect with a black protagonist, it would have been an entirely different movie altogether. The movie is out now in Brazilian theaters and is showing in a limited release in the United States.

Regina Casé plays Val, and she's perfect. Having honed her comedic skills over decades and dedicated part of her career to spotlighting Brazil's poor and working classes, she truly incarnates the role and beautifully depicts a position that has evolved as a remnant of slavery.

While this is a very Brazilian story, it's also a fundamentally Latin American story. It brings to mind women who leave their children in another region or in a whole other country, from Paraguayan domestics in Argentina to Central American maids in the United States. Brazilians and anyone who has spent significant time in Brazil likely knows a Val, and will recognize her mannerisms and personality in Casé's character.

Directed by a woman, Anna Muylaert, the movie also touches on universal issues like motherhood, feminism, the generation gap, and social class divisions. It's this last piece - the deep social divide and the daily indignities Val faces - that are so uncomfortable to witness that I was squirming in my seat.

Expertly filmed, the movie makes the audience feel like it's in Val's shoes, with narrow shots of hallways and doorways, giving one a very keen sense of both the physical and social boundaries within a single home. It's only when Val's daughter, Jéssica, shows up, that we see the realm the family lives in, rather than the confines of the kitchen or the claustrophobic bedroom where Val sleeps. Jéssica refuses to abide by the unspoken rules, taking up in the guest room, eating in the dining room, and most controversially, swimming in the pool.

"A person is born knowing her position," Val scolds her daughter. "When they offer you something of theirs, they're being polite. They know we'll say no."

Jéssica represents a new generation of Brazilians and the new middle class, breaking boundaries (literally), getting a higher education, and flouting norms and expectations for what a person of little means can do with her life.

Still, the treatment that Bárbara, the woman of the house, gives Val and her daughter, seem unfortunately realistic. "You're nearly family!" Bárbara tells Val at one point, sandwiched between growing humiliations to which she subjects her. The Twitter account A Minha Empregada (My Maid) reveals precisely these types of views and treatment of maids.

What the film hints at but ultimately doesn't show is that the landscape for domestic work in Brazil is changing dramatically.

Brazil has close to 7 million domestic workers, more than any country in the world. But the rules of the game changed in 2013, when a constitutional amendment passed that gave a host of rights to domestic workers, including a minimum wage, a maximum number of working hours, overtime, lunch breaks, and social security. Plus, in recent years, some women have been leaving the profession to get an education or change careers. With salaries rising, it's no longer as common that maids live with families, as women opt to commute. And because workers are more expensive to hire, some families no longer have full-time maids. And in São Paulo, some upper-class homes are no longer built with maid's quarters.

Still, it's precisely this hope for change that makes the movie work, ending with a sense of redemption.

At one point in the film, Jéssica announces her plan to go to university to study architecture at one of the best schools in the country. Bárabara lifts an eyebrow and in a voice dripping with condescension and a hint of resentment, says: "See? Our country really is changing."

December 30, 2014

It's been an exciting year to watch Brazil, especially since the world was also watching, given the World Cup and the presidential election. But there's also plenty else going on, from an ever-changing middle class to the country's security challenges. Here are highlights from the blog.

A Brazilian fan watches the 2014 World Cup in Salvador.

The World Cup: Despite ominous predictions, the international mega-event went well, for the most part. Brazil was eliminated from the tournament in a devastating loss, but Brazilians' attitudes on the World Cup overall and their team's defeat showed how the country has changed since it last hosted the games in 1950.

2014 Elections: This year's federal and state votes were like something out of a movie. A presidential candidate died in a plane crash, a former presidential candidate took his place, and the presidential runoff was one of the closest in years. The election caused a huge amount of debate and divisiveness, which will set the stage as the president starts her second term and as Brazil's most conservative Congress since redemocratization takes office next year.

Brazil's New Middle Class: As Brazil's economy has slowed to a crawl, interest in the country's growing "new middle class" has also dimished. But the truth is that this massive group of people continues to be one of the most important ones to watch. From January's youth "rolezinhos" to a series of strikes ahead of the World Cup to local protests against violence, Brazil's new middle class continues to redefine itself.

Security and Pacification: Security remains one of Brazilians' top concerns. Whether it's continued efforts to "pacify" Rio's favelas or vigilantes taking the law into their own hands, the debate remains about how the authorities should best address public security.

Journalism and Social Media: Brazilians are using a variety of online tools, from Facebook to Twitter to Instagram, to debate some of the country's most important issues, ranging from mega-events to security to politics.

June 29, 2014

When Brazil ended up using largely public funds to finance stadiums, there was a hope that at least a wide array of Brazilians would be able to witness games on their home turf to take advantage of playing host. But when the tournament began, some observed that Brazil team games appeared to be a sea of white faces in the stands. Then, pollster Datafolha decided to find out definitively, surveying attendees at Saturday's Brazil vs. Chile game. Around 67 percent of attendees identified as white, and 90 percent identified as members of the A and B classes, or the highest-earning social classes in Brazil. So why is this the case?

5. It's part of a larger international trend of expensive soccer tickets. In the UK, for example, the average for the cheapest adult season ticket to a top-four division soccer match cost around US$573 last year. Plus, some observers noted that overall, regardless of the teams playing, this year's World Cup matches appear to have largely white crowds.

4. Ticket scalping is a problem. There have been numerousreports about reselling World Cup tickets online for inflated prices. Some of those tickets are from the discounted category, and it's possible those who got discounted seats tried to make a profit. Plus, jacked-up prices for scalped tickets mean last-minute buyers tend to be more well off.

3. Brazil's World Cup Law defined discount ticketing... Before signing the controversial World Cup Law, President Dilma Rousseff vetoed a provision that would have reserved 10 percent of all Brazil-team game tickets for discounted seats. Instead, she vetoed another provision suspending state and municipal ticketing laws that allow discounts for certain groups. So in the end, FIFA created what was called the "Category 4" tickets exclusive for Brazilians. Within Category 4, there were half-price tickets available for Brazilian students, senior citizens, and recipients of the Bolsa Família program. The Brazilian government said that 400,000 Category 4 tickets would be sold for the whole World Cup, and that 50,000 free tickets would be given to stadium-construction workers and another 50,000 free tickets to indigenous fans and Bolsa Família recipients.

2. ...But ticketing may have worked differently in practice. For the Brazil-Chile game, the cheapest tickets made up around 5 percent of all tickets sold, according to the AP. FIFA says that for group-stage games, it sold 143,364 of the cheapest tickets, amounting to approximately 3,000 tickets per game. But these inexpensive tickets sold out quickly. And while courtesy ticketing took place, there were reports of construction workers scalping their free tickets.

1. While Brazilians paid slightly less than foreigners for tickets, going to a game was still out of reach for many. FIFA charged prices that were marginally cheaper for Brazilians than for foreigners in each ticketing category based on current exchange rates. But tickets were still expensive and Category 4 seats were limited, as one can observe by looking at seating charts. Category 1-3 tickets range from about $82 to $900, with more expensive tickets for the opening match and later rounds of the games. The country does have a large and growing new middle class, but even some of the lower-end Category 3 prices can represent a month's salary for a family of four wanting to attend a game.

January 22, 2014

Though there hasn't been a major rolezinho in over a week, the debate about these mass teen gatherings continues to rage in Brazil. Over the weekend, several protests in favor of rolezinhos took place in at least five cities, and more are planned throughout the country in coming weeks.

So what's the latest on the rolezinho front?

Hearing from rolezinho participants: First, with a media firestorm, some outlets have made an effort to give a voice to the rolezinho participants themselves. G1 did a nice roundup of perspectives from teens in São Paulo, and many echoed the idea that the rolezinhos are meant to be a social gathering, one in which members of the opposite sex can meet. Some also highlighted them as opportunities to show off clothes, to eat at McDonalds (which is still seen as a cool luxury for the new middle class), and the lack of other places to go.

International coverage from The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal also included quotes from rolezinho participants. To its credit, VEJA São Paulo did an interesting report and talked to some of the organizers.

The Brazilian debate: Rolezinhos have inspired a fierce public debate about race, class, and Brazil's evolving socioeconomic reality. The media has been continually spinning stories about the phenomenon. Sociologists continue claiming these acts are political protests versus opponents of rolezinhos, who argue the kids are hoodlums. In a popular interview in which she argued with finance reporters about the health of the Brazilian economy, Luiza Trajano of retail giant Magazine Luiza essentially defended the rolezinhos, saying youth didn't have other places to go and compared them to the June protests.

Plus, people are still talking about them on social media. A widely circulated video revealed that some people really do deny the rolezinho debate stems from racism. It features a supposedly wealthy Carioca arguing with a protester dressed as Batman during the rolezinho protest outside Rio's upscale Leblon mall on Sunday. Piauí Herald, akin to the Onion, published a funny satirical piece in which the city of Miami banned Brazilian socialites, nouveau riche, TV personalities, and liberal bloggers from gathering at its malls.

Meanwhile, there's been an effort to defend rolezinho participants beyond the sociological angle. New middle class guru Renato Meireilles pointed out that across Brazil, youth from Brazil's C class, or new middle class, have an estimated $54.4 billion in purchasing power, which is more than the purchasing power of the A, B, and D classes combined.

Finally, some have pointed out that rolezinhos are not necessarily a "new" phenomenon, but have been happening on a small scale for years. In 2000, there was even a case of a group of protesters "occupying" a Rio mall (there's a short documentary about it.)

What's next: Rolezinhos have left policymakers very worried, all the way up to President Dilma Rousseff. The Brazilian Association of Mall Store Owners has confirmed a meeting with the president next week, and said it would to help organize entertainment events for youth in São Paulo in order to prevent rolezinhos from happening. Meanwhile, the association also announced this week that mall traffic has fallen 25 percent due to the rolezinhos. Shopping Itaquera, the site of two major rolezinhos, has spent over $126,000 on security, training, and legal fees due to the rolezinhos. Clearly, the malls want to make this a business case, but there are bigger issues at play.

In São Paulo, the rolezinhos have inspired talk of providing free entertainment and leisure activities for youth from the city outskirts. At the same time, the São Paulo government wants to keep these same kids from hanging out on the streets and listening to loud music in their own neighborhoods. São Paulo Mayor Fernando Haddad is advocating for these same teens to go to so-called "community clubs" where they can listen to funk music and hang out, instead of listening to loud music, particularly funk, in their cars and on the street. This comes after the mayor signed a law which will fine people R$1,000 for listening to loud music on the street and on sidewalks.

The World Cup: The rolezinhos have nothing to do with the World Cup. Really, they don't. The most likely impact they could have is in the international media itself, making a big deal out of something that is not related to the games at all. The only possible connection they could have is if large-scale rolezinhos happen beginning in May or June, which is really hard to tell at this point. During those months, street protests specifically aimed at the Cup seem more likely. The rolezinhos are an entirely different story.

January 14, 2014

When you think about social conflict in Brazil, you probably don't think of a mall. But in recent months, the mall has become the epicenter of a different kind of protest in and around Brazil's largest city, a protest that has fractured along class lines and has divided Brazilians.

What are the rolezinhos?

The so-called "rolezinhos no shopping" began in December in São Paulo. These are mass mall gatherings organized on Facebook, made up of young people, largely working class from the city outskirts. Hundreds, and even thousands of teens show up for these events. They're not explicitly political in nature; they're meant to be social, as well as for flirting and meeting members of the opposite sex.

The first major rolezinho took place December 8 at Shopping Metrô Itaquera, allegedly drawing 6,000 teens and leading to rumors of theft and mass muggings. The mall administrators deny there was a wave of robberies, but three people were arrested for stealing. On December 14, another rolezinho in Guarulhos drew around 2,500 teens, causing panic. Even though there were no reports of robberies, the police took 22 youth into custody reportedly for being "about to start" a mass robbery. Rio-based writer J.P. Cuenca joked on Twitter that police in Brazil are so efficient that "Minority Report" isn't science fiction there. The third rolezinho that month took place on December 22, right before Christmas, at Shopping Interlagos. Ten military police teams were summoned, and despite no reports of robbery, four youth were taken into custody. [See G1's helpful timeline of the events.]

This month, a rolezinho at Shopping Tucuruvi on January 4 caused the mall to shut down. On January 11, Shopping Metrô Itaquera had another rolezinho. But this time, police responded with force, using tear gas and rubber bullets, and cops were caught on video beating teens with nightsticks. Several robberies were reported.

Meanwhile, the same weekend, at least six malls in São Paulo got court orders to block the rolezinhos, stationing police and security outside to bar unaccompanied minors from entering. Átila Roque, the head of Amnesty International in Brazil, said the actions of police and mall administrators were discriminatory and racist. [Read the full Q&A here.] But São Paulo state's secretary of public security has vowed to employ police for upcoming rolezinhos planned this month. [See a map of past and upcoming rolezinhos in São Paulo.]

Numerous solidarity rolezinhos are planned in Rio this week, with nearly 8,000 RSVPed for a rolezinho at Rio's upscale Shopping Leblon. Rio authorities are being cautious and say they don't anticipate sending police, but that remains to be seen.

Why are the rolezinhos controversial?

On one hand, some are calling the response to the rolezinhos as "apartheid," and see the rolezinhos as a protest against oppression and a way to make white, upper-class Brazilians uncomfortable in a normally safe space. One of the organizers of the Guarulhos protest, Jefferson Luís, told G1: "It's not a protest, it's a response to oppression. It doesn't work to just stay shut up at home." São Paulo sociologist Marília Moschkovich wrote on her blog that the rolezinhos are a "weapon in the fight for a truly equal society." They're also intimately related to the June protests, she says, as youth organize and occupy space. With expensive and shoddy public transportation--an issue that sparked those protests--youth have limited access to public space, as well as cultural and leisure activities.

On the other hand, some see the teens as vandals who are invading private property. In this camp, rolezinho participants are frequently associated with funk, a genre of music from favelas. One columnist from conservative magazine VEJA went as far as to call rolezinho participants "barbarians incapable of recognizing their own inferiority, who are deathly jealous of civilization." Wow.

And in a widely circulated blog post, journalist Leandro Beguoci explains, based on personal experience growing up in the poor outskirts of São Paulo, that both the left and the right are incorrect in their hysterical responses to the rolezinhos. He says that both end up dehumanizing the real protagonists, and that they miss the point. The rise of a new middle class with access to more expensive consumer goods means these teens have already been consistently frequenting malls; they're not "occupying" them. And they're promoting the use of name brands, not criticizing consumerism, he says. Despite the fears of mall administrators who got the court orders this weekend, the teens aren't going to the city's most expensive malls where they would likely feel out of place. Beguoci defends the argument that the gatherings are social rather than political in nature, and are amplified because of the reach of social media.

What are the factors at play with the rolezinho?

Race: This is the most obvious and most uncomfortable issue at hand. The majority of those involved in the rolezinhos are teens of color, and large groups of black youth inevitably come under scrutiny, whether in Brazil or countries like the United States, for that matter.

But for some Brazilians in the upper class, it's still a new concept that black Brazilians have become consumers, the kind of people who go to malls and airports and aren't just janitors and maids. In one incident in 2009, for example, a black man was nearly beaten to death in the suburbs of São Paulo for driving an SUV; security guards at a Carrefour thought he was stealing it. Unfortunately, some see Brazilians of color as out of place in places like malls--places they used to rarely or never frequent before the growth of the new middle class.

Social class tensions: Those who participate in rolezinhos are largely from the lower or working classes, and the malls that got court orders include some of the fanciest in the city. But a lot has to do with ongoing tensions with the new middle class, a new group of consumers that the traditional middle class and upper class still haven't gotten used to.

São Paulo-based journalist Juliana Cunha told me her perspective. "It's the fruit of the Lula years. This is a section of the population that became consumers, but not citizens, as Vladimir Safatle once said," Cunha explained. "I think that the people who are consumers (before they weren't even that) discovered that they don't have the same rights as other consumers and that consumption won't change their situation. That's why this mall invasion is emblematic, and that's also why there's this counter-movement by the middle class that seeks 'simplicity' and doesn't want name brands anymore. Now it's cool to have a Brazilian-sounding name, to eat food from the North made by Alex Atala, to travel to the country's interior. Doing all of this to differentiate themselves from the poor who can now buy R$1,000 sneakers and fly to Miami."

In an interview with El País, anthropologist Alexandre Barbosa Pereira Pereira gives a similar view. "Is it that the middle class thinks these youth are 'stealing' their exclusive right to consume?" he asks. He goes on to explain why the rolezinhos are making the middle class uncomfortable. "The discomfort in seeing poor people occupy a place they shouldn't be, like seeing consumers buy certain products that should be more expensive...they can be funkeiros, poor people, or mixed race from the city outskirts, but they can also be maids, delivery boys, taggers," he says. "The rolezinhos aren't protests against malls or consumption, but are affirmations of: 'We want to be in this world of consumerism, in the temples of consumption.'"

Public space: It's important to note that the rolezinhos began in São Paulo, and not a coastal city. Time will tell if real (and not "protest") rolezinhos take off in Rio, but my personal theory is that because Rio has vitally important public space--the beach--there's an outlet for teens who want to hang out in groups. Meanwhile, São Paulo and its suburbs are several hours away from the beach.

But one thing that paulistas and cariocas from working-class neighborhoods do have in common is that in their neighborhoods, public spaces are often small or non-existent. Desirable public spaces, like São Paulo's Ibirapuera Park, for example, are far away and require long, expensive trips on public transportation.

"I think it has to do with the right to the city," Rio-based writer Julia Michaels told me. "[It's the] feeling one can be anyone, go anywhere."

Security: Despite a homicide rate that's been falling over the past decade, São Paulo has an increasing crime problem, especially with robberies and muggings. So malls provide a safe haven and a protected public space for those who worry about carjackings or even mass muggings in restaurants. Malls are like bunkers, Beguoci wrote in his post; upscale malls tend to have few pedestrian entrances, or even none. Because of the added security bonus, shopping centers are sacred, and this is true across the country. Regardless of whether or not crimes actually happen during the rolezinhos, these events have inspired fear of arrastões, or mass muggings, in a place that is traditionally seen as safe and crime-free.

Social Media: Technological advances and digital inclusion are also a major factor behind the rolezinhos. With over 80 million Brazilians online in a country that's crazy for social media, Facebook has become an important platform to connect youth. The rise of internet use in Brazil has overlapped with the expansion of the new middle class, meaning that poor and working-class youth are often the first in their families to get online. And with a booming smartphone market, it's even easier for young people to connect on the go and in real time: over half of Brazilian internet users get online on their phones. That includes the new middle class: the C class accounts for about 35 percent of smartphone users. Smartphones are a major status symbol, and as such are a coveted item among young people.